Firelight
by Stef
Summary: FFVI, post-game. Celes enjoys her privacy, or rather did.


The festivities long over for her, Celes found herself stretched out before the fireplace. Boots and armor off, glass of wine in her hand, she was finally ready to relax. The blond general lay flat on her stomach and sipped carefully at the smooth, red liquid. A content sigh escaped her lips as her green eyes fluttered shut. She was so, so tired.

She wondered if anyone had noticed her quiet retreat from the celebration. Figaro castle was big enough and there were certainly enough people that no one would have paid mind to her absence, right? Celes shrugged and poured more wine from the stolen bottle into her glass. She'd worry about pleasantries tomorrow. Tonight she simply wanted to _be_.

All her plans for the evening evaporated when a sharp knock sounded at her door. She hazarded a glance in the door's direction, willing her unbidden visitor away. No one even knew she was up here, behind a locked door with her wine and her thoughts.

And then another knock, more insistent this time. The melodic jingling of metal on metal on metal meant only one person was on the other side.

Locke decorated himself more than even any woman she had ever met. He adorned himself with various bangles, earrings and necklaces. Rings decorated every one of his quick fingers. Black polish on his fingernails, black kohl around his eyes. He was also an extravagant dresser. Expensive, silken scarves and cloths around his waist, neck, and head. He truly enjoyed pretty things. Pretty, expensive things.

And many of those pretty things were clinging and clanging as his fist pounded ever more insistent against the door.

Celes chose to ignore it. If he wanted to get in badly enough, she supposed she would. The quiet click of the lock opening confirmed that much. She watched as the door creaked its way open, light from the hallway spilling past Locke's silhouette.

"Here you are," his tired, gruff voice announced.

"Here I am," Celes confirmed. She patted the spot beside her on the rug. "Are you going to join me now that you've barged into my chambers?"

Locke crossed the room slowly after shutting the door. Light from the hall gone, the only way to see was from the light of the fireplace. He lay on his back beside Celes, eyes on the unlit chandelier. "I've come to steal your alone time," he admitted playfully.

Celes arched an eyebrow. "You've been drinking."

"You still _are_," he noticed. He rolled over so that he was also stretched out on his stomach. He picked up the wine bottle and squinted at the label. "How much do you think this wine's worth?"

"It's worth enough," Celes estimated after another sip. "Care to try it?" She offered her glass to him.

Locke shook his head. "I'm not much of a wine drinker."

Celes shrugged. "I am," she whispered into the glass. "So what brings you up here, O stealer of alone time?"

"You," Locke admitted. "You are a hard woman to find."

Celes smiled a little. "Yes, well I _thought_ I was." She hazarded a playful glance in the thief's direction. His silver eyes reflected the firelight and made him look like a golden god. Those silver eyes bore into hers. She wanted to say something, anything. He pilfered her words.

"I came up here to apologize," he told her with a guilty look.

Celes set her wine glass aside and regarded the man beside her. "Whatever for?"

"You know." He seemed conflicted. Frustrated, he untied the bandanna around his head and set it on the floor in front of him. Sweat was collecting on his brow and it shone like so many tiny diamonds. "In Vector," he began "before you teleported us away… I-" he shook his head, wiped at his sweaty forehead with his bandanna. "I want to apologize for what I said. I was so stupid and didn't even think to… You trusted me and I didn't-"

Celes nodded, noticing how hard he was fighting with himself for the correct words. "I understand. You don't need to be so cruel to yourself. And I accept your apology, Locke."

He relaxed visibly at her forgiving words. The hints of his lazy smile eased across his mouth. "Thank you, madam general."

The blond woman nodded and rested her forehead against Locke's shoulder. She slid her eyes closed and inhaled his musky scent. All sweat and beer and something else distinctly Locke. "You're welcome, mister treasure hunter." She lifted her head to meet his eyes. He gave her a long, soft stare. He said nothing, simply looked.

Celes felt her cheeks heat up, wine and fire not the cause at all. "When you look at me like that-"

Locke moved in ever closer, his nose touching Celes'. "Like what?" he asked her before brushing his lips against hers.


End file.
